cold countin’ beasties
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““What?” Mike mumbles, cigarette hanging from chapped lips. Adam can make out the cracks that are like those in the sidewalks. (Adam doesn’t know or remember when he handed it back to him.)
“Nothin’,” Adam muttered, eyes falling down to the floor. (But they keep coming back up, like he can’t decide where to look. Even though Adam does know where he wants to look.) And Adam feels kinda stupid. Like he’s one of those flies stuck between the screen and the glass of a window. Because Mike’s literally right fuckin’ there, hollowed cheeks and all. Blue eyes with splits of shades that are like splinters in Adam’s skin and golden strands of hair in the sun that stray away from clumps of curls. And Adam’s just… looking? Yeah, fuckin’ right.”
busted lips and half a cigarette stubbed out.
Series
- Part 1 of cold countin’ beasties
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Summary
it’s just friction.
it’s just hormones.
it’s just mike.
continuation of cherry sours.
Series
- Part 2 of cold countin’ beasties
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“Then he’s all giggly, Adam can hear his smile and laughs— something sweeter than the corn syrup in the Coke he drank, where he can still taste artificial sweetness in the roots of his teeth. Adam can see Mike turn his head over, a wide grin settled onto his face while he’s hunched over, giggling over something he, himself said— like he’s waiting for a smile or laugh to crack over Adam’s face. Even when most of the time, Adam’s eyes are blanked out somewhere else, tracing out a wall or some shit. Either way, it makes his narrowed expression split into where he can feel his lips curl into a smirk.”
Series
- Part 3 of cold countin’ beasties
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Summary
jeal•ous
(adj) fiercely protective or vigilant of one’s rights or possessions.Adam isn’t jealous. ‘Cause Mike ain’t a fuckin’ thing or some shit. Adam doesn’t own him.
Mike might, though.
Series
- Part 4 of cold countin’ beasties